


The Adventure Of Vamberry, The Wine-Merchant

by Cerdic519



Series: Further Adventures Of Mr. Sherlock Holmes [7]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alibis, Alternate Universe - Victorian, London, M/M, Moneylending, Murder, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 10:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14789018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: Still a full six years away from meeting the man who would ultimately change his life, Sherlock's sixth case involves.... a sixth case. One which is the key to a murder for which all three suspects had seemingly unbreakable alibis.





	The Adventure Of Vamberry, The Wine-Merchant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Justbecause421](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justbecause421/gifts).



_Introduction by Sir Sherrinford Holmes, Baronet_

I know that after his potentially dangerous case dealing with the major London crime lord Mr. Khrushnic, my brother Sherlock received several small commissions from the gentleman's colleagues because there were certain matters that for obvious reasons they would rather go to him over than to the Metropolitan Police Service. His sixth case (including the “Gloria Scott”) would be one of these, and although seemingly insignificant at the start would lead to a case of cold-blooded murder for which all three suspects had seemingly unbreakable alibis – so which one was breakable?

Talking of things being breakable, I need to get the bed checked out. Especially after Kean used the beam across between the posts for.... well, for something it was probably not really designed for, shall we say.

۩۩۩۩V♔R۩۩۩۩

_Narration by Mr. William Sherlock Scott Holmes, Esquire_

I continued with my course at Caius although I never really took to the city of Cambridge itself; possibly it reminded me a little too much of Oxford and the sharp ending to my time there. I found myself spending more time in the family's second London house which might have annoyed my eldest brother as he wished to sell it; fortunately Sherry had found someone who was living abroad at the time and wished to move in some two years hence when my course would be finished. I decided then that when I did finish my course I would rather rent rooms somewhere than look to possess my own four walls, a decision that was to have a great bearing on my life.

My increasing amount of time spent in London Town also led to certain friends of Mr. Khrushnic, whom I had helped recently over certain filial issues, seeking my advice on matters that were in most cases not suitable for 'official channels'. Most of these were small and uninteresting, but one did lead to a most curious case that could not be written up at the time as one of the innocent people involved asked that it not be. He did however say that when he did retire he would return to his native Netherlands and I might perhaps publish the case then. So as is my practice I am writing it up for such an eventuality.

۩۩۩۩V♔R۩۩۩۩

I had sorted out a small matter of fraud for a Mr. Purkiss, one of Mr. Khrnusnic's friends, to which I had effected a successful conclusion that had saved him considerable expenditure. He insisted on paying me but, before saying his farewells, he hesitated.

“I have another matter to hand”, he said. “Except that it is quite impossible.”

My interest was piqued.

“Pray tell me”, I said, sitting down again.

“The facts seem to be quite simple”, he said. “A colleague of mine, a Mr. Henry Berwick, was a moneylender. No better or worse than most in his profession, but I had some slight acquaintance with his late father who was a good man. Henry was murdered three nights ago, some time between eight and nine in the evening.”

“And you wish me to see if I can find the killer?” I asked.

He hesitated.

“That is the problem”, he said. “In the world of money-lending, timing is all important. Henry had three major debts outstanding at the time of his death, so his sudden death meant that those debts could not be immediately collected. And all three loanees were in some straits.”

“So it is one of three?” I asked.

“I am afraid it might be none of three”, he said grimly. “I naturally checked on all three men to see if I could find the culprit. Unfortunately all three had alibis for the time of the killing, and Doctor Rook who examined the body was quite definite about that time. He is as you may know highly respected in his profession; it was his evidence which did for Phillipson over the Grange Street Robbery last year. He was certain the man was killed between half past eight and nine o'clock.”

“So to the suspects. Mr. Gerald Cross was working as a stage-hand at a play in Shaftesbury Avenue that evening; he was working the levers and pulleys for a play all evening and even if he could have slipped away for a few moments, he could not have reached Mr. Berwick's house over in Poplar unless he somehow flew there! Mr. William Gilling was working at the company books at Vamberry's, a wine-merchant down in the docks, and there was no way that he could have left the office unseen as his departure was later witnessed by a policeman who recognized him from a positively terrible hat that he wears. And Mr. Jeremy Cribb had the best alibi of them all; he had got rip-roaringly drunk that afternoon and had spent the entire evening sobering up in a jail cell!”

“There is the possibility of a substitute in all three cases”, I pointed out. “Especially for Mr. Cross, who would have worked in darkness.”

My host's face fell.

“I had not thought of that”, he said. “And there was one other odd thing, although I do not see how it could affect the case. Mr. Vamberry lost a case of wine the same day that Henry was murdered.”

“How did he manage that?” I asked.

“I do not know”, my host said. “But perhaps it may be a way in to find out more, if you think there is some way in which Mr. William Gilling could have somehow made himself invisible or have passed through a solid brick wall.”

“In this age of scientific progress”, I said, “I would not rule out anything!”

۩۩۩۩V♔R۩۩۩۩

I sensed that the missing case of wine was important, as its loss coinciding with the death of Mr. Berwick – no, coincidences did not happen. But how to explain that a man could leave a room in a busy warehouse without being seen?

I decided to pay a call on Mr. Vamberry and see if he might be co-operative in my inquiries. But before I had a chance to do so I was the recipient of a rare visit from my brother Sherry, who had come to the City to sign some papers. We discussed various matters over lunch, and I told him about the case.

“Do you know if the police are taking an interest in this Gilling fellow?” he asked after some thought.

“The gentleman who is employing me said not”, I said. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I can see things from poor Mr. Vamberry's point of view”, he said. 

“Why do you call him 'poor' Mr. Vamberry?” I asked. “He may be quite rich.”

“Consider”, he said. “In his business, reputation is everything. If it begins to be bruted about that he tries to short-change customers, it could ruin him.”

I was annoyed that I had not thought of that.

“Murder of a man's reputation may not be a crime”, Sherry said, “but it can be damaging in its own way. Kean says that is what makes his business as successful as it is.”

I wondered at that remark.

“You and Mr. Hardland”, I said carefully. “People have not said anything, have they?”

“You know the Victorian way of doing things, brother”, he smiled. “One may _think_ all sorts of scandalous things about one's fellow members of society, but one must never actually _say_ them, as that is quite unacceptable. Besides, you have seen the size of Kean; I tend to find that that alone is an effective deterrent against most ill-wishers.”

“I can see that”, I conceded.

“And his size in other areas is also quite....”

“I have no brother!”

He had the bad grace to snigger, damn him!

۩۩۩۩V♔R۩۩۩۩

Mr. Vamberry's warehouse was in one of the less salubrious areas of the docks (and that was saying something!). I noted that the cavernous building fronted out onto both the dockside and a street that was very busy, then went inside to find two large carts being laden with boxes. A thin and unkempt fair-headed fellow in his forties stood between them checking off items on a clipboard, and spared me a dark look; I guessed from the way he was bossing those around him that this might be the Mr. Gilling I was interested in. One of the men took my card in to the main office whilst I waited outside, mercifully out of sight of that glare. 

I was still stood there when the door burst open and a tall blond man burst through, having to duck his head to avoid hitting the lintel. He scowled at me for some reason before striding quickly away. A similar-looking man appeared in the doorway behind him and sighed heavily.

“Mr. Holmes”, he said, bowing courteously. “Martin Vamberry, at your service. Colin said that you may be able to help me.”

He escorted me into his inner sanctum, a small stuffy room with only a narrow and dirty ventilation window on one side. He waited for me to sit before taking his own seat.

“I shall certain try to help you, sir”, I said. “Mr. Purkiss has not, I presume, told you fully about the reasons for my involvement in this matter?”

He looked puzzled.

“He said you may be able to clear up what happened to that case of wine the other day”, he said, running his hands though his thinning hair. “Unfortunately the recipient of the order, a Mr. Wilberforce, is of the sort to brute about that I tried to short-change him if I cannot find _why_ the thing disappeared as it did. Such a thing could ruin me!”

I made a mental note not to think so ill of my eldest brother in future. I was not (thankfully) as bad as Mycroft, but I was in some danger of failing to fully understand the human element in my inquiries.

“May I first inquire as to the identity of the gentleman leaving in such a hurry?” I asked. Mr. Vamberry sighed in a put-upon way.

“My brother Pieter”, he said, sounding almost bitter. “My mother wanted the three of us to run the company jointly, but she died giving birth to our other brother Benedikt and my father rapidly discerned that Pieter had little or no head for business. When Father moved back to the Netherlands I got the business and they each got a generous sum of money. Pieter has spent his way through his inheritance, and is now demanding his 'rightful' share of the business. As you probably saw, he did not take the iteration of my refusal at all well.”

“Are you the sole proprietor?” I asked.

“Not any more”, Mr. Vamberry said. “When I expanded from Limehouse to this place, I had to turn over seventy-five per cent of the business in shares to various banks and lenders. We are doing well enough but any sort of bad publicity would do us great harm. That is why one misplaced case of wine is so important.”

“Misplaced?” I asked, curiously.

“Yes”, Mr. Vamberry said “It was found at the back of the warehouse this morning, under a tarpaulin. I have no idea how it got there. I have sent it round as an extra case to Mr. Wilberforce as an additional apology. But I am fearful that, however the error occurred, it may happen again further tarnishing my good name.”

“Did you check the case first?” I asked. He looked puzzled.

“I opened it”, he said, “and checked the code on the side of the box. It was definitely the missing case.”

I thought for a moment.

“Is it fair to say, then, that it would be in your brother's interests to damage the business slightly, so as to make your creditors nervous?” I asked.

He looked shocked at the idea but, I noticed, did not deny it. I looked around the room.

“You are doubtless aware”, I said, “that Mr. William Gilling is a suspect in a current murder investigation. I believe that that may have a link to your missing case of wine. Is this where he was working on the night of the murder?” 

The wine-merchant seemed to shake himself back to reality.

“Yes”, he said. “And the only way out, as you have seen, is through the main warehouse.”

“They might have been too busy to spot him leaving?” I suggested. Mr. Vamberry shook his head,

“The men are entitled to a thirty-minute break each, which they take in turns between eight and half-nine”, he explained. “Because the warehouse is so cold, they always come into the outer office where my secretary works during the day, light the stove and play cards there. I do not mind provided they do not enter the inner office; you saw how cold the main warehouse is with us being on the waterfront. And as you can see there is no way that anyone, not even someone as thin as Mr. Gilling, could possibly fit through _that_ window.”

“Did anyone see him actually leave?” I asked.

“Yes”, Mr. Vamberry said. “The local policeman saw him coming out of the door just after ten.”

I thought for some moments on that. I was fast learning that the evidence of witnesses was not always to be relied upon.

“When you sent out the replacement case”, I said, “who decided that Mr. Frederick Gilling would take it?”

“He offered to take it”, Mr. Vamberry said. “He was in my office reporting about the hunt for the lost case when Mr. Wilberforce burst in. The Gillings live but two streets away from the tavern, so it was not far out of his way.”

“I see”, I said. “One more question. Has anything else gone missing from the office of late?”

“No, sir.”

I smiled knowingly. I had noticed the very slight pause before his answer. 

“Cushions or pillows?” I asked.

The effect on the wine-merchant was electric. He went deathly pale.

“How... how could you know that?” he gasped. I smiled knowingly.

“It is my business to know things, sir”, I said. “I shall return with Mr. Purkiss at nine this evening, when I hope to have this matter wrapped up for you. You might also consider extending an invitation to Mr. Wilberforce to attend, as it was the theft of his property which led to this and he would doubtless be pleased to see you take such things seriously.”

۩۩۩۩V♔R۩۩۩۩

As I had expected Mr. Purkiss was able to obtain a copy of the witness statements in the case. They were most revealing, and as we set off for the wine-merchant's that evening I felt confident that I had matters in hand. Although my client was naturally wary about such a thing I took the precaution for arranging for a number of policemen to arrive at the place shortly after us. One can never be a hundred per cent sure when dealing with criminals. 

Of any class.

I could not help but notice that Mr. Wilberforce, the landlord of the tavern in the case, looked distinctly uneasy as he sat there mopping his forehead.

“Be not afraid, Mr. Wilberforce”, I said. “I merely thought that you would like to understand how your missing case of wine ties into a murder.”

The man's face turned pale. I half-thought that he was going to faint.

“M... m.... murder, sir?” he squeaked. 

“Murder most foul”, I said gravely. I turned to Mr. Vamberry. “And sorry though I am to say it, sir, the police will shortly be in your warehouse to arrest the brothers Gilling, one for murder and one for aiding and abetting. The penalty for both is, quite rightly, death by hanging.”

“Sir, that is impossible!” Mr. Vamberry stated firmly. “We have witnesses who will swear that Mr. William Gilling never left that office that evening.”

“I do hope not”, I said gravely. “Perjury, even when unwitting, is a grave offence in the eyes of the law.”

The wine-merchant seemed to be trying to get some words out, but failed. I sat down and stretched out my legs.

“I will now tell you how it happened”, I said. “First, the motive. The money-lender Mr. Berwick had many clients as one might have expected, but only three whose financial situations were so perilous such that only the death of the gentleman could win them the delay they needed to save themselves. Mr. William Gilling was one of those three. He knew that if Mr. Berwick met an untimely death he would immediately come under suspicion, but he had two plans to counter that. One was to establish for himself a seemingly watertight alibi, and the other was the not unrealistic expectation that one of the other potential suspects would not be so well-placed and would themselves come under suspicion.”

“The Gods do not favour him in the latter, as both the other potential suspects do indeed have alibis. In fact they were so good that I asked Mr. Purkiss to have them double-checked, just in case. I have often said that coincidences do not happen and it seemed to me that for _both_ men to be so fortunate was highly unlikely. However, their alibis duly proved as strong as they had first seemed, so I turned my attentions back to Mr. William Gilling.”

“On the morning in question, Mr. William Gilling arrives early at work and hides one of the six cases destined for the Elephant & Castle tavern. The choice of your establishment, Mr. Wilberforce, was by no means accidental as I will shortly explain. He then fudges the paperwork, knowing that he can rely on his brother to make sure that the missing case is not spotted. It is imperative that it is discovered only at the right time.”

“Why?” Mr. Vamberry asked. I ignored the interruption.

“He does one other thing before everyone else arrives”, I went on. “He knows that there are cushions, pillows and blankets in one of the outer office cupboards for when people work late into the night. He takes a couple of cushions from the cupboard and hides them behind the couch in the inner office. The day then proceeds as planned until Mr. Wilberforce, as expected, arrives at five o'clock and demands to know why he has been short-changed over his delivery. Acting on the recommendation of Mr. William Gilling you, Mr. Vamberry, agree to furnish him with a superior case of wine which Mr. Frederick Gilling will most kindly deliver when he leaves in an hour's time.”

“How could you know that I would arrive here at five?” Mr. Wilberforce demanded indignantly. I smiled (perhaps a little too) knowingly.

“Your statement to the police mentioned that you were returning from your sister's house, which you said is in Southend”, I explained. “You also stated that you visit there on the first full weekend every two months, and that you always combine these visits with business dealings in that town which lead to your being away from the house at an early hour. I would wager that some time in the recent past you must have mentioned that to Mr. Frederick Gilling, which led to his fixing on you as a suitable victim, especially as he and his brother lived near your establishment. The Gillings banked, correctly, on you realizing that you were a case short and coming round to demand restitution immediately upon your return.”

The innkeeper blushed.

“To continue”, I said. “Witnesses reported that Mr. Frederick Gilling left with the extra case of wine just before six o'clock. He did not. What actually happened was that, shortly before that time, Mr. Frederick Gilling went to the main office. No-one was surprised when Frederick Gilling was admitted to the room and a few moments later, _William_ Gilling left it, wearing his brother's coat. That in itself was unusual as it was a hot day yet the statements were that he had already buttoned his coat up and had his hat on. It was already dark outside and outer office is poorly lit.”

“Hang on a minute there!” Mr. Vamberry put in. “I know the lighting is bad, but Mr. Frederick Gilling is about twice the size of his brother. There's no way anyone could mistake those two.....”

He gasped as a realization struck him.

“The cushions!” he burst out. I beamed at him.

“Exactly”, he said. “And then there is the tartan hat. I found that most curious, especially as Mr. Purkiss' discreet inquiries showed there to be no Scottish blood in the Gilling family. A few inquiries amongst the men out there, and I found that Mr. Frederick Gilling only started wearing the hat in the past week – at exactly the time that his brother began plotting his murder.”

“Most annoyingly for Mr. William Gilling, no-one subsequently comes forward to state that they saw him – or thought they saw his brother - leave; one never gets a witness when one actually needs one! He takes the case of wine to the tavern – I believe you expressed annoyance, Mr. Wilberforce, that he left it at the door, though now you may understand why – then takes his gun, finds and shoots Mr. Berwick, and returns to the warehouse. Frederick Gilling remains behind a locked door, for as well as providing his brother's seemingly ironclad alibi he has also to wait for the men taking the breaks in the warm outer room to conclude, then slips out unnoticed sometime between half-nine and ten.”

“I noticed, Mr. Purkiss, that in the case notes you obtained for me it was mentioned that there was a small explosion recorded, possibly a firework going off, at about that time. I would wager that that was in fact a distraction caused by Mr. William Gilling so his brother could make his escape out. Hats and coats are exchanged, and Mr. Frederick Gilling leaves the area. His brother then waits until the local policeman happens by, and makes sure he is seen at the door by him, having established the perfect alibi. That was why I wished to see the statements; the policeman did not actually _see_ him come through the door, he saw him standing outside the door and locking it. Everyone will swear that the killer never left the office until ten o'clock.” 

Everyone stared at me in silence.

“I do not see why Mr. Frederick Gilling did not just commit the crime himself”, Mr. Wilberforce said.

“Family matters”, I said. “Mr. William Gilling did not wish his brother to kill for him, merely to cover up his own dark deeds. Unfortunately for both of them, the end result will be the same.”

“What about proof?” Mr. Purkiss asked anxiously.

“Did you get Mr. William Gilling's coat?” I asked.

“Yes”, Mr. Purkiss said, handing it over. I held it up for critical examination. 

“He is as good as hung”, I said quietly.

“But how?” Mr. Vamberry asked. 

I pointed to the front of the coat, where a faint orange stain could be made out.

“That is the same paint used to mark the deliveries”, I said, “a job that Mr. William Gilling always avoids. The only way he could have got a mark like this is by carrying a case of wine for a considerable distance, something that, according to his story, he never did. And if you look even closer, gentlemen, you may spot that there is a tiny fragment of wood lodged under one of the buttons. I would wager that that matches the wood of the missing sixth case.” 

There was a knock at the door and the wine-merchant's secretary came in without being asked. She was clearly upset.

“Sir!” she blurted out. “The police have arrived, and they have arrested Mr. Gilling and his brother!”

I may have preened. Ever so slightly.

۩۩۩۩V♔R۩۩۩۩


End file.
